


Blindfolded

by cassiopeia221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Food, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeia221B/pseuds/cassiopeia221B





	Blindfolded

“I am supposed to _cover my eyes_? What on earth for, John?“

“I thought you liked _experiments_ ,“ John quips, cheeky smile playing on his lips. “Besides, it was _you_ who insisted that it was time to get more creative in bed, Sherlock,“ he points out.

Sherlock snorts at John’s remark, his eyes rather lazily flicking between John’s still incomprehensibly excited face and a folded scarf in his hand.

“When I _suggested_ that we should try something new, John, it was because I was curious, not because I am not satisfied enough having sex with you. Quite the opposite actually. I, in fact, still do crave to see your face and your face only during sex. It’s clear what you’re implying here, John, but I can assure you that the possibility that it’s ever going to change is non-existent.“

Sherlock delivers his monologue with such serious face, John has troubles resisting an urge to kiss the tiny crinkle above his nose.

“That’s incredibly flattering, love, but you’re misunderstanding,“ John explains. “First of all, yes, our sex life couldn’t be more perfect, no objections whatsoever. But it’s not entirely about the sex itself. It’s definitely not about preventing you from seeing my face,“ he chuckles, reaching to brush Sherlock’s hand. “It’s just _fun_. Building up the anticipation, stimulating _all_ your senses, bringing you pleasure, Sherlock, _surprising_. We could even use food, for a start-“

“ _Food_?“ Sherlock tilts his head. “As in… you… _oh_ , I see,“ he nods, folding his fingers under his chin, brooding for a brief moment.

“To be honest, John, I was thinking of something perhaps a little bit more... _sexy_. Pray tell, what is so fascinating about tying a scarf around my eyes so I can’t even look at your… half-naked body and then… feeding me various sweets and then... what _precisely_ you’d even like do to me afterwards?“ Sherlock asks, feigning utmost disinterest in John’s reply but John can recognise a very familiar tone in his voice. He is getting hooked. Despite pretending that he’s never heard a worse idea in his life.

“Oh, I can think of a _lot of things_ I’d like do to you afterwards, Sherlock,“ John giggles, shuffling further below so he can straddle Sherlock’s lap, his fingers gently stroking up and down Sherlock’s bare abdomen. “It’s all up to you. But if you _really_ don’t want to do this, then I’ll put this thing back into the drawer and we can just forget about it. Just tell me what you want, okay?“

Sherlock purses his lips, gaze still fixed on John’s hand and his brow furrowed as if he is making the most difficult decision at the moment. In fact, however, he’s actually already fantasising about ‘ _the things’_ that brought such bright grin to John’s face, allowing his imagination to run wild.

“Okay,“ he shrugs after a moment of pondering, propping himself up on his elbows. “I agree.“

“R-really?“

“ _Yes_ , do you need me to translate that into French, John?“ Sherlock teases, lifting himself up from the mattress so John can have a better access to prepare him for what is about to follow. “Come on then... _surprise_ me, John.“

John doesn’t need to be told twice. He brushes the curls off Sherlock’s forehead, ever so carefully proceeding to wrap the silk cloth around his head, remembering to assure Sherlock that they will stop whenever he wishes.

“Yes, I know,“ Sherlock smiles fondly, leaning forward to peck John’s lips but misses on his very first try. It takes time to adjust to these new conditions. For a man who so heavily relies on his sight it’s even frustrating at first, now that he sees nothing but darkness, but Sherlock eventually adapts. All thanks to John of course who doesn’t hesitate to kiss off that subtle pout that has crossed his face.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,“ John whispers, quickly getting off the bed and, judging from what Sherlock can hear, he evidently strides right toward the kitchen. Looking for something even remotely edible, Sherlock presumes, having no idea that John has already done some shopping beforehand, just in case, and so he could keep his promise and return back to the bedroom in an instant.

“Well, _that_ was quick.“

John chortles. “Well, you _know_ I can hardly stay away from you for more than two minutes. _“_

Sherlock is quite certain he must be blushing embarrassingly hard at the moment but he tries to ignore it. Fortunately enough, John’s tender hand on his back helps so he can collect himself, turning each of his insecurities into dust.

“Hey, are you okay?“ John’s voice is soft and concerned but still so incredibly warm, Sherlock’s heart flutters at the sound.

“Of course,“ he replies, corners of his lips curving into a shy smile.

“Are you sure? We can still quit if-“

“No, everything’s absolutely, one hundred percent fine. I just still can’t get used to being so... _wanted_ all the time,“ Sherlock titters, but upon hearing no response he can’t help but burst into giggles. “I can imagine your face so vividly now, John, stop worrying about me, please. It’s really _fine_ , I am fine. I _want_ to try this now. The worst that can happen is that we’ll run out of food. Speaking of which... aren’t you supposed to be putting something in my mouth already?“

John has to bite his tongue so he would stop himself from making a dirty comment. “As you wish then,“ he sniggers after a while, making once again sure that Sherlock is truly ready before passing the first piece of food toward his lips. Something that Sherlock, much to John’s amusement, recognises the moment he is able to smell it.

“Strawberry... dipped in a… whipped cream, _really_ , John?“ Sherlock scoffs, but sticks his tongue out, slowly licking off the cream before taking a small, tentative bite. He can tell that John is staring agape at his lips now and the very knowledge makes him smirk quite smugly.

“I can hear your breath is quickening, you’re squirming, John. Tell me, seriously, since when is _eating_ arousing you?“ he asks innocently, wetting his reddened, plump lower lip so sensually, it should be illegal, John thinks, grateful that Sherlock has already relaxed enough to banter again.

“ _You_ are arousing me,“ he growls, right into Sherlock’s ear, rough, breathy whisper that Sherlock can hear ringing even long afterwards. He instinctively leans for a kiss but instead of John’s tongue there’s another piece of mellow fruit slipping between his lips. This time Sherlock sucks and nibbles, making such indecent noises that John simply can’t refrain from touching him any longer.

He reaches for another strawberry, drawing it across the seam of Sherlock’s lips, leaning in, in the same time so to lick a stripe down and back up Sherlock’s neck and across his jawline, kissing and nipping the pale skin as gently and cautiously as possible.

“One more, hm?“ John murmurs into the crook of Sherlock’s neck but much to his surprise, Sherlock catches his wrist instead, the tip of his tongue darting to clean the cream off John’s thumb.

“What are you-oh, fuck, _Sherlock_ -“

Sherlock utters no words but John suspects that if it wasn’t for the cloth covering his eyes, he would be giving him the filthiest look right now. It’s hypnotising, watching Sherlock’s mouth closing around his fingers, tongue briskly twisting around each one of them, each such a contact making John crave for those luscious lips more and more until Sherlock’s moans turn so needy so it gets impossible trying to keep their mouths apart.

John practically tackles Sherlock down on the mattress, locking their lips in a sloppy, nasty kiss, sliding his damp palm down Sherlock’s neck and chest, rubbing and pinching his nipple ever so lightly, his other hand rushing through that mess of dark curls.

Sherlock whimpers and writhes beneath John, arching his back, desperate for more contact but John gives him the opposite of what he wants. He breaks the kiss, grasping his waist so he can keep him steady in one place instead.

“ _John,_ please touch me, John-“

“Patience, love, patience, we’ve barely just begun.“

“To hell with patience,“ Sherlock half-chuckles, half-whines, but begs no more, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Do you even realise that your lips taste much better than strawberries, John?“

“Well, I have some good news for you then, we’re done with _strawberries_ , Sherlock,“ John laughs, letting go off Sherlock, but remains lying close next to him, one of his legs draped over Sherlock’s, his groin pressing firmly against Sherlock’s thigh.

“Open your mouth, please,“ John requests, _finally_ , Sherlock thinks, assuming that John is wasting time on purpose just so he can drive Sherlock completely mad with need.

“Cherry praline,“ Sherlock hums, identifying the right taste so fast it makes John laugh again. “And, very obviously... dark _chocolate,_ “ he purrs, the word itself melting on his tongue.

“Oh, you’re rather good.“

“John, let’s not pretend, you’re making it even remotely difficult.“

“Very well then,“ John smiles, Sherlock’s playful retorts having no negative effect on him. “What about… _this_. I warn you, it’s going to be a bit different this time.“

Sherlock opens his mouth wide, expecting a sour taste, bitter, maybe even a very hot pepper if John dared to go as far, but nothing prepares him to feel a sharp touch of cold crawling down the side of his neck, sending chills throughout his whole body.

“ _John,_ that’s-that’s… oh, God, keep, doing that.“ Sherlock forgets what even he was about to initially say, wincing and gasping on bed, focusing on nothing but John running a small, thawing ice cube first over his nipples, teasing for a couple of moments and then down his chest and abdomen, peacefully, almost tantalisingly slowly.

John can’t even avert his eyes to check Sherlock’s expressions. It is mesmerising to watch his chest rising and falling so heavily as he pants with pleasure, ice cube in John’s hand leaving wet traces behind and so making Sherlock’s alabaster skin glisten beautifully, almost as if he was bathing in the silver moonlight.

“You’re so, so gorgeous,“ John breaths, stretching to chain their lips in a kiss, kiss that lingers and lasts, kiss that John turns into something entirely new, drawing the ice cube around Sherlock’s navel and then even further below, pausing only once he reaches the waistband of Sherlock’s pants.

Sherlock never wanted to be able to see more than at this very moment, now being absolutely sure that the true purpose of this little game they’re playing is turning one of the partners into a pleading, moaning puddle. It’s working, he thinks to himself, especially the moment when John sneaks the ice cube underneath his pants, following down his happy trail but then pulls back and doesn’t repeat that again, much to Sherlock’s disappointment.

“You are such a... naughty tease, John Watson,“ Sherlock sighs, feeling John’s grin against his neck and then a hint of tongue and maybe even teeth very gently grazing on the sensitive skin and Sherlock’s mind once again goes blank.

“We’re not nearly finished yet,“ John murmurs. Sherlock tries to at least guess what could possibly follow but he has to admit he’s clueless, not even realising what is inevitably about to happen once he so casually asks for a hint.

“A hint?“ John rises an eyebrow, smirk hanging upon his lips. “Since when does the genius Sherlock Holmes need a hint of _any_ sort?“

Sherlock merely huffs in response, groping in the air in his attempt to nudge John, but hits a pillow instead. John’s body is no longer within a reach but Sherlock can her the rustling of the sheets and covers, almost as if John was looking for something.

“What are you doing? It’s not very nice to keep me waiting here when my pants are getting so uncomfortable, John.“

“You’re not going to keep them on for much longer, don’t worry,“ John snickers, finally climbing over Sherlock’s body before settling himself on his stomach, rocking his hips a little so Sherlock very quickly realises that he is not the only one feeling so tight in his pants.

“ _Why_ do I have a feeling we’re past the feeding part, John?“

“ _Not yet_. I still do have a little treat for you right here.“

Sherlock automatically parts his lips, allowing John to put one another piece of food between his teeth, ready to immediately make the right guess, but he’s rendered speechless as soon as he takes the bite. And not even because his mouth is now full of honey. He’s positive he’s never before tasted a sweeter chunk of apple in his life, not admitting it aloud naturally but John can tell anyway, thanks to the teeny pleased noises Sherlock’s currently making.

“So?“

“Why, it was… good, John,“ Sherlock clears his throat, acting as nonchalantly as he’s capable of, still refusing to confess that he’d definitely wouldn’t mind some more. “Really, nothing particularly… special.“

“What a shame,“ John sighs, but his voice cracks in his attempt to choke back a laugh so hard. “I had prepared some more, but since you want none-“

“I didn’t say-“

“Too late, Sherlock. It’s my turn anyway.“

“W-wait… _your_ turn?“ Sherlock bolts up in excitement but John gently pushes him back down on the mattress.

“Eager, aren’t we?“

“I just can’t possibly imagine what – are you – you’re pouring... _chocolate_ on my chest now and my… _oh, OH,_ it’s... _warm_.“

Few things John enjoys witnessing more than Sherlock’s face in the moment he figures something out. It is a remarkable sight even now, that John can’t actually see his eyes glinting with ecstasy. His jaw drops and cheeks turn red, no coherent words leaving his throat but as it turns out two seconds later he doesn’t need to ask any more. John’s tongue dipping into his belly answers all his questions.

Sherlock moans and wriggles so frantically, John has to seize his hips and pin him against the mattress, yet he doesn’t stop dragging his tongue across Sherlock’s flat stomach. Now lying between Sherlock’s spread legs, he grinds against him ever so achingly slowly, drawing low groans out of Sherlock’s mouth. He licks and nibbles the delicious skin, wandering upwards Sherlock’s body, tickling him with his tongue until Sherlock starts giggling, prompting John into doing exactly the same.

But then John reaches to spray some cream over Sherlock’s chest and Sherlock’s gleeful giggles once again morph into deep, raspy growls. John’s mouth closes around one of Sherlock’s nipples, sucking off the foam and teasing with the tip of his tongue, his hands now caressing up and down Sherlock’s torso, smearing the chocolate and cream all over his smooth skin. Until finally John kisses up Sherlock’s neck, cradling his face and giving him one of the longest, messiest kisses that leave them both breathless but even more greedy.

“I… I have to confess. I wasn’t entirely right, John, it… it _is_ _quite fascinating_ ,“ Sherlock pants, trying to catch John’s lip again but failing and so letting out another desperate sound.

“Oh, you’re going to _love_ _this_ then,“ John pecks Sherlock’s cheek, his nose, neck and shoulder, at first chaste kisses turning into wet, open-mouthed ones once he reaches his stomach again.

This time Sherlock doesn’t even need to think especially hard, he knows exactly what John is about to do. He can feel his heart pounding faster at the notion, even skipping a beat once John leans in and licks the fabric of his pants, breathing in the strong, almost intoxicating musky scent, stroking Sherlock’s cock with his palm and lips through the thin layer of cloth before he bites down on the waistband and pulls Sherlock’s pants down, finally releasing the tension that’s been building up for so long.

“Relax now, just relax, Sherlock.“

Easier said than done, Sherlock thinks, moaning loudly the very first moment John’s tongue brushes past the head of his cock. He wants to look, he _needs_ to look, needs to watch how his cock disappears between John’s lips, John’s hollowed cheeks, John’s caring hands caressing his thighs so soothingly...

“Sherlock, you’re so tense, love, are you okay? You can put that thing off now if you want.“

Sherlock considers doing so for a moment but in the end, decides to keep his eyes closed and covered, concluding it’s worth at least a try. Even though this one time he will be deprived of seeing the marvellous picture in front of him.

“No. I want to keep it,“ he replies at last, slouching further below and spreading his legs even wider.

“Are you sure? May I continue then?“

Sherlock offers no other response but a resolute nod, determined to focus on John’s voice, lips and hands, trying to catalogue all the sounds and touches.

John starts slowly, giving Sherlock a couple of long, firm strokes at first, sucking and lapping only at the head of his cock. Sherlock would usually guide him, urge him, but this time he’s allowing John to choose the pace so he can fully indulge in the feeling, so each swirl of John’s tongue, each brush of his lips he can savour in a completely new, different way. If he could look he would not pay attention to anything but the mere sight in front of him, it would be over fast but now he can only listen and feel and God, how he’s getting lost in the cacophony of noises John’s making. Gravelly, raw moans vibrating almost roughly around Sherlock’s cock, utterly in contrast with how softly is John stroking Sherlock’s thigh, how gently he’s massaging his balls to achieve maximum pleasure.

First time Sherlock’s hips jerk the moment John grips him more tightly, licking from the base to the tip of his cock, repeating the same move until Sherlock’s blurting out his name and tightly grasping the sheets. His free hand darts toward John so he can run his fingers through his hair and show him just how euphoric he’s making him feel.

“ _John_ -“

“I got you, I _got_ you, Sherlock.“ John slides a hand over Sherlock’s tum, now sucking him much more vigorously, rubbing and twisting his tongue around the hot erection, fast at first and then immediately slowing down, licking at the head again so he can taste on Sherlock’s pre-come with a touch of filthy salacity.

Sherlock can feel his breath quickening, heart hammering loudly in his ears yet he still tries to concentrate on other the sounds, sloppy noises of his cock sinking into John’s mouth, wet and nasty once John swallows around him but it’s the friction, John’s soft lips and tongue and gentle fingers pressing against the hard throbbing flesh, feelings of pleasure that are so inexplicable and sensational that not even John’s firm hand can keep Sherlock lying idly any more.

Sherlock fails in his attempt to stay calm. He can’t, not now that he can see the image of John between his legs without even having to look. He rocks his hips almost furiously, his entire body, still sticky from earlier, swaying on the mattress as he thrusts into John’s mouth. John grabs his waist and pulls him even closer, bobbing his head until Sherlock’s cock hits the back of his mouth. Twice, thrice, before Sherlock convulses, howling John’s name loudly, his legs shuddering and skin flushing as hard as if he's been engulfed in fire before he releases inside John’s mouth, coming so much so it obscenely drips down John’s lip and chin and fist. Yet John doesn’t pull back until he cleans him off completely, until Sherlock’s too sensitive cock is flaccid in his hand and Sherlock’s finally breathing less heavily, still moaning but at least not shaking any more.

“Everything okay, love? Sherlock? Are you here with me?“

“I-I-I’ve never been better, John,“ Sherlock exhales, still trying to return back from high so it takes him a couple of seconds until he’s able to continue. “That-that was the most – the most intense climax, I-I’ve ever… God, _I love you_ , John.“

“I love you too, I love you so much,“ John coos, planting a small kiss over Sherlock’s inner thigh before quickly crawling over him to lock their lips in a serene kiss.

“Now you really don’t need this any more.“ John says after a moment, reaching to untie the scarf around Sherlock's eyes but Sherlock grips his wrist instead, tired but strangely suggestive smile crossing his lips.

“Hold on. You-you forgot about something,“ Sherlock whispers, lowering John’s hand to his lips, pecking it just so tenderly.

“What about you, hm? I-I owe you something, John.“

Sherlock can only imagine the current expression on John’s face but he’s positive that John’s eyebrows just flew impossibly high in surprise.

“Sh-Sherlock, we really don’t need to do this right now, you’re-“

“What? Exhausted? Dishevelled? My mouth’s working _perfectly_ fine, John,“ Sherlock chuckles, fixing the scarf around his head so it wouldn’t fall off.

“Besides,“ he continues, “you were exceptionally hard fifteen minutes ago already. I expect you’re going to last for approximately one minute and fifty five seconds only, that’s it, if I am not going to put any effort into it.“

“Where the bloody hell did you pullthose number from?“ John giggles, tapping Sherlock's chin ever so lovingly.

“Easy, John, I know your body far too well. If we’re going to waste any more time it’s going to be three very soon.“

“Christ you, you know how you turn me on when you start doing _this_ ,“ John growls, letting out another little dirty chuckle before lowering himself onto Sherlock, kissing him only slowly, leisurely, certainly not minding that he is now wallowing in the mess of chocolate and vanilla cream too. Sherlock takes his time, stroking John’s back at first, raking his nails, up and down his spine before tucking his hands beneath John’s pants, drawing a soft moan out of his mouth once stripping them down.

“Mhm, should I turn us over now?“

“No. I don’t need to move an inch, John.“

“W-wait, you mean, you want to – oh Jesus.“

“ _Yes._ “

John can hardly tame his voice so he wouldn’t sound so shamelessly ecstatic over what Sherlock has proposed.

“We-we’ve never done it like this before.“

“Well, I’ve never been blindfolded either and yet here I am, wondering why for _God’s sake_ you’re not straddling my face already John.“

Sherlock barely manages to finish his sentence, John is doing exactly _that,_ carefully pressing the tip of his cock against Sherlock’s lips as soon as his kneels dip into the mattress. Sherlock immediately gropes John’s thighs, angling his head so he can lick the glans and suck so teasingly slowly at first so John’s reduced to a cursing mess in the very beginning. The very next moment these same low, guttural growls spur Sherlock so he decides to skip now so tedious teasing. He starts sucking with almost a carnal voracity, using no hands but his dexterous tongue and lips to draw the most enthusiastic moans out of the man above him, catching John so off guard so he nearly loses his balance.

Sherlock can feel John’s fingers threading and tangling his hair before he tugs so firmly so Sherlock’s scalp tingles, just the right way, but then Sherlock pulls even further, taking the whole length of John’s cock into his mouth so this time John truly, completely loses control over his movements.

Both his hands clench, clinging to the headboard now and so tightly so his knuckles turn pale in an instant, but he can only hardly notice the numbness. Sherlock’s tongue is hot and firm, hungrily tasting on the fast leaking pre-come, twisting around the head each time Sherlock reaches the tip again, a trick John fell in love with, but it’s once again Sherlock’s gravelly voice reverberating in his chest that makes John sees the stars and moan louder than ever. That and the sight of his cock buried entirely inside Sherlock’s mouth.

The next few seconds are blurry, John can only remember himself pounding into Sherlock’s mouth so roughly so the bed creaks and bends beneath them and then Sherlock’s grip on his thighs, pulling him even closer somehow, swallowing each and every single drop of come spilled down his throat. John perceives soon enough to pull back and finish himself over Sherlock’s flushed face and chin and between his swollen grinning lips and even the scarf still wrapped around his eyes.

He doesn’t move for a while but breathes heavily above Sherlock, eyes shut tight, still holding onto the headboard, still kneeling over Sherlock’s face until this position starts aching so hard so he collapses down on the mattress, having to take a couple of minutes so to calm down.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , I am sorry, I-I was about to-to tell you but then-but you are so fucking perfect-“

“Please. You’re acting as if I didn’t know when exactly you’re about to reach an orgasm John,“ Sherlock sniggers, his tongue once again so cheekily running over his bottom lip. It’s really all John needs so he would roll over Sherlock and finally pull the scarf off his head, thoroughly wiping his face before peppering his eyelids and forehead with small soft kisses.

Sherlock slowly blinks to open his eyes, even a huger grin splitting his face once he glares at John’s smitten, glowing smile up close.

“You look like you just experienced the best blow job of your life, John,“ Sherlock smirks, grabbing John’s nape and pulling him into a proper languid kiss.

“Mhm, well, you’re _not_ wrong. I just told you, you’re perfect. With your perfectly shaped, beautiful lips and-“

“Are you _sure_ , you want giving me compliments _now_ , John?“ Sherlock cuts him off, frowning a little but his voice is far too jovial. “My face surely doesn’t look particualrly appealing covered in all this... mess. No offence intended.“

“Oh, God, you-“ John shakes his head, laughing before kissing Sherlock yet again, yet again so slowly so they can both savour the contact but Sherlock pulls back after a short moment, tittering quietly against John’s lips.

“You know how I love when you do this to me-“ he makes an obscure gesture with his hand, clearing his throat, still a little sore from earlier but the smile on his lips doesn’t fade away. “If you wouldn’t mind though, I would like to get cleaned now. I enjoyed all of that, immensely so, John. I’ve never been able to immerse in your voice and touch like this. I _felt_ you with all my quivering body and fuck, what-what you did there, that was _brilliant_. It _was certainly…_ an interesting experience and yes, despite the messy consequences, even a sexy one, but-“

“But now you feel utterly gross, right?“

Sherlock blinks, quite impressed with that deduction, albeit such an easy one. “Well... I was about to sugar-coat it, but oh _yes_. I, of course, expect you’re going to assist me washing all _this_ off,“ he chuckles, taking John’s hand into his own but before rolling off the bed his gaze falls upon the disused scarf laying atop the sheets. He reaches for it with a smirk, tossing it in John’s direction afterwards.

“You _do_ realise this was a gift right?“

John gulps, blushing bashfully since it didn’t even occur to him at first. “I-I didn’t even know you owned a silk scarf, Sherlock, I found it this morning and-“

“Oh, I hated that scarf, John-“ Sherlock utters, silly smile on his lips so John would stop feeling so guilty. “Until of course you put it into a much better use. It’s such a shame we’ll have to use a different one next time.“

“N-next time?“

“Obviously,“ Sherlock nods. “Next time when you’ll be the one lying in bed, blindfolded. Assuming you want to try that too, naturally.“

John catches himself opening and closing his mouth so stupidly, unable to offer an immediate reply so he rather responses with another kiss, kiss that speaks louder than a thousand words. _Oh, God, yes._


End file.
